


Will you write to me?

by daydreamdragon



Series: Letters to Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamdragon/pseuds/daydreamdragon
Summary: Lavellan spends a brief moment with Mackayla before he heads to the Storm Coast.It's my first snippet of these two that is more than just scrawling notes on scraps of paper and I'm extremely nervous for them so please be gentle





	Will you write to me?

“I thought the Seeker asked you not to take that this time?”   
Makayla had noticed the wooden whistle he’d shoved in his canvas knapsack, damn woman was too perceptive for her own good.  
“She complained about the fiddle.” He tied the straps down on his bag and threw it unceremoniously into the corner. “Didn’t say anything about my whistle.”  
“She’ll snap it you know.”  
“She’s got to get it from me first.” He flopped down on the bed beside her, the pile of papers she was working on crumpling under his leg. “Pry it from my iron like grip.”  
She knocked at his knee to get him to move, pulling the papers out from under him and placing them in her lap.  
“I love how you ignore me you know.” He stretched back against the pillow, “I’m only heading off to get my arse handed to me by Templars, bright glowing red ones I might add.”  
She didn’t lift her gaze from the massively thick book in front of her, “I’m not ignoring you. I’m researching better ways to save that arse.”  
He laughed and she groaned knowing what was coming, he couldn’t help himself, “You love my arse.” He could tell, without even looking at her that she was rolling her eyes at him. “It’s a nice arse,” He continued enjoying the sport, “Are you going to miss it? My nice arse?”  
She turned to look at him over her shoulder only briefly but he saw her smile.  
“Ooh you are!” He provoked her calm exterior. “Shall I stand up and bend over a few times for you? So you can etch the image in your mind?”  
“No thank you.”  
It was a formal response with a firm tone. He loved pushing her buttons, watching that carefully constructed wall come crumbling down bit by bit the more he picked at it. He reached a hand out to grasp the end of her braid, giving it a little tug. “What else will you miss while I’m getting the shit kicked out of me?”  
“You’re not going to get the shit kicked out of you.” She leant forward pulling the braid from his fingers. “Don’t be so dramatic.”  
He sat up, nestling in behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, watching as she scribbled notes across her journal. She wrote in such fluid and graceful movements, loops and lines forming her thoughts into words. He loved watching her write, always had. “Will you write to me?”  
That got her attention. She turned to look at him, her lips so close to his.  
“What would you have me write?”  
“Anything.” He said honestly, his playfulness gone as he curled his arms around her waist. “How your day is, what everyone gets up to while I’m gone. Weird shit Dagna cooks up while Harriet isn’t looking.”  
“Mundane happenings at Skyhold?”  
“Yeah.” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, “Stupid mundane crap. Write to me about Lilliana’s birds I don’t care. Just write so I can hear your voice in my head.” He closed his eyes and leant into her, breathing in the scent of her and wished he didn’t have to leave.  
“Haven’t you got enough voices in their already?” She teased.  
He drew back from her and smiled. Mackayla had always been a little tentative when he showed his more serious nature, it didn’t appear often and on previous encounters it had caught her off guard with honest yearnings of affection and awkward declarations of love. She always attempted to change the tone of the conversation when it turned to candid sincerity. He often wondered if she took his confession seriously.   
He had been completely honest when he’d told her all those years ago how brilliant he thought she was and again just before they’d parted when he’d said he’d never forget her. He’d stood in front of her only a few months ago and told her how deeply he cared for her. That had been a complete disaster but yet here she was, with him now. On his bed with her work spread out across the blankets he so desperately wanted her to share with him. Did she believe him?  
She smiled at him and placed a light kiss on his nose. “I will write.”


End file.
